Travels with Father – 1992, New Mexico
I turned 65 several months ago, and lately I've found myself thinking more and more about my father at that same age. A month before Dad turned 65, he and I took what would become the first of several fall photography trips together. Over the next nine years, we traveled throughout the West, cameras in hand. At the time, I thought we were simply going on photography trips. Looking back now, I realize they were something much more important: photography had given my father and me a way to repair a relationship that had been strained, and somewhere along those western highways and behind those cameras, we learned how to simply be father and son. Unlike some of the other trips I've written about, this one has been difficult to reconstruct. Nearly 34 years have passed, and my memories of the trip have faded considerably. What I do remember has been supplemented by the 35mm slides Dad took, which I recently scanned, and by researching the places we visited. Even then, I'm prob...
